A Visit To an Adult Store

I remember how jealous my older sister always got when I was little and my mother would brush my straight, thick blond hair.

"You should have been a girl, Robin," Sis would say, shaking her frizzy, dirty-blond locks.

It bothered me because I was not a girl. I was a boy. Mom would sigh and tell me that most girls would kill to have hair like mine, not only thick and straight, but bright and shiny, too. The style for boys was to wear it pretty long, so I did. As I grew up, I compared my hair with other guys', and I always thought I had the nicest hair. Then, I started comparing it to girls' hair, and I envied them a bit for being able to style their hair any way they wanted. As my hair got longer, I wore it mostly in a pony tail.

I had always considered myself a normal teenage boy. I found I liked to look at the thin, willowy girls at school, but I could never muster the courage to ask one out. I loved it when they would wear something off-the-shoulder or a halter-top. I think bare shoulders and necks are very sexy. I also loved bare midriffs ... as long as the girls were thin and had curves. I imagined running my hands over their bare sides while my mouth nuzzled their necks and soft shoulders.

Then, slowly, as my teen years progressed, my fantasies began to change. It was my body being caressed, my shoulders and neck being nipped at ... by some man. I never could quite imagine what he looked like, but he would be older and stronger than me. I thought about crossing my arms around this man's neck, giving his hands free rein over my body while he kissed me.

I thought about this anonymous man a lot, about what he would want to do to me after he asserted his will and I surrendered mine.

I figured that I was probably gay, not that I had done anything about it when I was in high school. I ran track and was a pretty fair swimmer (with my hair packed under a swimming cap). I was 5-foot-8 1/2 and very thin. One day, I came upon one of my sister's fashion magazines. There was a male modeling Speedos. He was so perfectly thin that I almost couldn't tell where his flat stomach ended and his hips began.

He was very good-looking, but I realized that if I sculpted my body, I could be much better-looking. I could be beautiful. I couldn't really explain it, but I wanted to be able to attract a man someday, even if I wasn't going to let him touch me.

After I graduated high school, I had several academic scholarship offers, but I decided to take a year off to, I told my parents, earn enough to buy a car. I got a job in a fast-food restaurant where I didn't eat anything. What I really wanted to do was to get my body like the model's, if not better. I still went swimming, but I cut down on it because I wanted my arms to be toned, but soft, without too much definition. My waist didn't need much work, but I reduced my calorie intake and began a workout regimen to give me the tiniest waist I could have without it becoming too rigid.

I made sure my chest didn't get too hard. I was thin, but not emaciated. I was quite trim above the waist, but fairly soft, particularly near both nipples. My legs were trim from thigh to feet, and my butt was small, and, I thought, kind of sexy. As I approached 19 years old, I hardly had a hair on my body, and those I did have, I shaved.

After a shower, behind the locked bathroom door, I would wear my robe off both shoulders, let my hair cascade over my bare neck and shoulders, and pose for the mirror. I'd shimmy back and forth and pretend that my soft little mounds were real cleavage. It occurred to me each time that it wouldn't take much for me to pass as a woman. Perhaps I was just seeing what I wanted to see, but I thought I was beautiful.

I still thought of myself, though, as a man -- probably just a heterosexual man with a gay fantasy.

Finally, my year was over and it was time for me to leave my Connecticut home at age 19 and go off to college at the University of New Hampshire. After a tearful goodbye to Mom and Dad (my sister was already off to school in Boston), I drove off in the used car I had bought. It was raining and a bit chilly when I got to New Hampshire. I got a little lost on my way to the campus, and in my wanderings, I noticed a rather large adult book store and arcade, and made a mental note to check it out later. I had decided I wanted to buy a dildo, just to see what it felt like. I may be too scared to actually be with a man, but I felt it wouldn't do any harm to see what a dildo felt like as long as I could be gentle with myself.

It was late by the time I got all my stuff unpacked at the dorm. I was a whole day early, so there weren't many other students around. I was on my own at last. It was after 10 p.m., but I figured the book store would be open until at least 1 a.m., or maybe even 24 hours. I thought I might as well check it out and see if it had a dildo, maybe even with batteries that would make it vibrate. I showered, then dressed in sandals, cut-off shorts and an armless T-shirt cut to go down only to my rib cage. I looked in the mirror and raised my arms a bit. There was a pronounced concave from my thin ribs to my tiny stomach and then to the low-riding shorts on my hips.

I had sneaked off once to an adult arcade in Connecticut, but I didn't stay but a minute. An older man spotted me as soon as I went into the store and moved up close to me and mumbled something I didn't understand. I got frightened and left, but not before I noticed that they sold dildos and other paraphernalia in the store..

Now, in my dorm room, I thought perhaps I looked too good. I didn't want to attract any attention. I was going to change into something a bit less-revealing, but I said the heck with it and just put my raincoat on over my shorts and T-shirt. I stuffed most of my shoulder-blade-length blond hair under a cap and drove through the rain to the bookstore, where I was surprised to see that there was only one car in the large parking lot.

It was five minutes to 11 when I opened the door. Perched on a high stool behind the elevated counter reading a magazine was a burly old man, maybe 60 years old with a paunchy stomach, a black and gray moustache and what looked like about a five-day growth of beard. Not my dream man, or perhaps anybody else's.

He was not only ugly, but rude.

"We're closing," he said condescendingly, barely looking up from his magazine. I didn't say anything for a few moments, and he finally looked down at me. He hesitated a second, then resignedly said, "We're closing. Come back tomorrow."

The store closed at 11 p.m.? I was really disappointed. I don't know why I did it. I think on my first night away from home, while I had my room all to myself before my college roomate arrived, I really wanted to play with a dildo, and I since I was new in town, I didn't know anywhere else I could find one at that time of night.

"You know," I said while I eased out of my raincoat and looked up at him with my most-innocent, blue-eyed expression, "I've never been in a bookstore like this after it closed."

I definitely had his attention now. His dark eyes drank me in. "There's so much to see," I said as alluringly as I could. "There's something I really want to buy -- a dildo? -- and I thought maybe you could show me around and help me find it and maybe some other stuff."

Oh my goodness, I was flirting! With a man. With a man I didn't find even remotely attractive. Just to get a dildo. I was thinking maybe I should just leave when he stood up and walked around to the door. His bearded, pock-marked face was expressionless. He was a giant, at least 6-foot-5, perhaps 6-6, and must have weighed about 270 pounds. I only weighed 133. He wore his pants belt under his belly, which jiggled under his checkered short-sleeved shirt with the shirttails out.

I had my back to him, but I could hear his key turn the deadbolt lock and turned my head to see him flick off all but two dim lights in the store, giving the place an eerie effect.

I was scared. Really not knowing what I might be getting myself into, but I figured that even if he tried anything, I could probably discourage him enough so I could just buy my dildo and leave.

He came up behind me. He was breathing hard, probably because of his age and girth. I felt his belly up against the back of my bare midriff, and his huge, rough hands go to my sensitive shoulders. An odd, sensitive chill went all through me as his mouth got very close to my right ear. I could feel his unkempt moustache as his surprisingly cultured voice whispered to me.

"Gay or straight?"

I couldn't say anything.

"Do you want to look at gay or straight things first?" he asked.

I figured dildos wouldn't be in the straight section, so I croaked out, "Gay, please."

I shimmied my shoulders and he let go, but he put a hairy arm lightly around my bare waist as he guided me to the gay book, video and magazine section. It felt both repulsive and intriguing. A much older man is interested in me, and by the way he was touching me, I was pretty certain he wanted me. But, I certainly didn't want him. I don't know who I'm saving myself for, but it's not this fat, ugly, old giant.

The store was a big place, with an array of videos, books, magazines, lingeree, leather items, handcuffs and yes, dildos. In the back was a curtain marking the now-dark video arcade. He led me to a display of gay magazines. With my hands on my thin hips, I walked down the aisle, looking at the covers of the magazines showing men doing things I never even contemplated. His eyes were all over me, and I got the feeling he wanted his hands to be, too.

"What's your name, sonny?" he asked.

"R-R-Robin," I said in what I hoped was a carefree manner. "What's yours?"

He didn't answer. He just stood there watching me be uncomfortable.

"What do you see that turns you on most, Robin?" he asked in an almost-professorial way that temporarily eased my nervousness.

"The kissing," I answered. "I guess I get turned on when I see the men kiss each other."

"Come with me, then," he ordered, taking my hand and leading me to the video arcade. It was almost pitch-black there, but he had no trouble finding his way to a fairly small booth. We were forced by the lack of space to stand close together while he took a five-dollar bill from his pocket and fed it into the machine. A heterosexual film came on, but he pressed a button four or five times and stopped when a film showing two young gays kissing came on. I had never seen men kiss before, and I was mesmerized. One of the young men had one hand behind his partner's head and stuck his tongue into the other's mouth. With his other hand, he was pinching the fellow's left nipple. At first, it was hard to tell whether the man being kissed and pinched was in agony or ecstacy, but he soon was moaning in his pleasure and rubbing his hands on his lover's back.

I was turned on, but very nervous.

"I think I'd like to leave now," I said.

My companion was breathing very hard.

"No," he said. "You don't want to leave now."

His huge hands grabbed my soft shoulders. I tried to shimmy away again, but I couldn't. His belly against my trim back pushed me into the wall, and his mouth attacked the nape of my neck. I felt helpless, frightened and yet ... strangely feminine.

"Please don't!" I said as I hunched my shoulder, getting his mouth away from my neck. I turned to face him. "I'm not ready yet. I've never ..."

His bearded, ugly face was red. His breath more labored, and he pressed my body against the wall with his.

"You are so fucking beautiful," he said as he grabbed my wrists and held them over my head against the wall. One of his meaty hands then held my thin wrists while the other explored my bare midsection. "You have got to be the best-looking person -- man or woman -- who has ever come in here."

He moved in to kiss me, but I turned my head. He moved my hair out of his way and nuzzled my neck while rubbing my torso with his free hand. His fat belly pressed against my thin one. Everywhere he touched me, my body reacted. His mouth on my neck sent chills all through me. He finally moved his hand up, and gripped my face. Holding my head straight, he kissed me. I struggled, but even at his age, he was much too strong for me. I instinctively closed my eyes, but I could feel his moustache, then his rough lips probing mine. Finally, his tongue invaded my mouth. I could taste the cigar he must have smoked earlier. I was 19 years old, on my first night away from home. An old man had told me I was beautiful and now he had his tongue in my mouth.

When I finally opened my eyes, his hand wasn't holding my face. It was caressing my bare mid-section. So was his other hand. My arms were no longer against the wall. They had somehow crossed lightly around his neck, giving him unimpeded access to my body.

And I was kissing him back.

The video played on, but its sounds were a blur. I moaned in the back of my throat as he kept kissing me and kissing me. His mouth was wet and demanding. His tongue touching mine felt so erotic.

Involuntarily, I writhed my trembling body into his thick torso while his hands despoiled my virgin flesh. His back and shoulders felt unbelievably strong as I ran my fingertips around them. He knew who was in charge ... and so did I. He was my man and I was his ... woman.

Still kissing me, he took my right hand and placed it on his crotch. There was a huge lump there.

"Did I do that?" I asked into his mouth as we kissed. My right shoulder moved forward seductively in response to his touch. I really was feeling the sense of accomplishment women must feel when their man has an erection. I was turning on an older man, and that was turning me on. I was so much smaller than he, so much younger. His gnarled hands and his smoky mouth couldn't get enough of me.

"Look, Robin," he said. I loved the way my name sounded when he spoke it for the first time. "My hands can go completely around your waist and my fingers can touch each other."

It was true. His giant hands had no trouble going around my tiny waist.

"Does that please you?" I asked breathlessly.

He didn't answer. He just drew me into him by my waist and kissed me. First so hard that it took my breath away, then his lips lingered on mine, barely touching them. I leaned back with my arms raised at either side of my head, partly because his belly was pressing at me, but mostly because it felt feminine to be so helpless.

He moved his mouth to my neck. I could feel his rough beard and then his wet tongue and teeth, and my body tingled. I looked over his shoulder at the video screen for the first time in several minutes. One of the men was sucking on the other's organ. It was wet with his saliva and very big and hard. The one doing the sucking seemed to really be enjoying himself.

Meanwhile, my man's mouth on my neck was making me swoon.

"All this," I murmured in my pleasure, "because I wanted to buy a dildo."

My man smiled for the first time. Then, he suddenly picked me up and carried me out of the video arcade. My arms were around his powerful neck. I found I loved being carried and surrendering control. He carried me over to the lingeree section, holding me with one powerful arm, while with his other hand, he took some clothing off one of the racks. He carried me into a small room near the entrance. It had a desk, a chair, a TV, VCR and a bed. Another door led to a small bathroom. He gently deposited me on the bed, told me he had to get something and said I was to put on the clothes he had taken off the rack.

He left the room. I was out of breath, dazed by what had just occurred. I took off my clothes. He had selected a harem outfit, silky-soft and virtually transparent. Most women couldn't have gotten into it, but it fit me beautifully. The top was worn off-the shoulders and only came down to mid-rib cage. The pants were worn low on the hip ... and had a large slit at the bottom to give access to ... everything.

Doing what I was told, I put it on and looked at myself in the mirror. My blond hair fell over my bare shoulders. I shimmied them back and forth. I was so pure, so innocent, so sexy!

So much bare, taut, milky-white skin. I ran my hands over my curvy sides. Then I caught sight of my man in the mirror as he put a plastic bag on the table. He caught sight of me, too. He grabbed my soft, bare shoulders from behind -- how did he know how much that turned me on? -- and bit my neck three times. Each time, I squealed, but he was like a man possessed. He finally turned me around, pushed me onto the bed and moved on top of me. He was all over me while kissing me and running his coarse hands over my bare flesh.

"Oh, Oh, Oh!" I cried, almost drowning out his heavy breathing. I had never felt so helpless, so used -- so wanted and desired.

His finally rolled off me, I thought, to catch his breath. But he wanted to talk. He sat up, with me seductively underneath, looking up at him. Reaching under my top with both hands, he gently pinched my nipples and looked intently into my blue eyes.

"This is what you've always wanted but never could have, isn't it, Robin?" he said.

I didn't know what he meant. I didn't know what to say, but he did.

"You've always wanted to act like a girl, haven't you?" he said. "You've wanted to dress up in frilly clothes and attract a man, but you never had the chance ... until now."

He pinched my nipples harder.

"Here, Robin, you can be as feminine as you want to be."

I wanted to be very, very feminine. For me ... and for him. His fingers on my nipples were beginning to hurt me. I tried to move his hands with mine, but he only pinched harder. I gently caressed the backs of his hands as he tortured my breasts, hoping he would stop. The pain became intense. I slowly moved my bare shoulders back and forth as the pain began to turn into pleasure. He removed his left hand from my right breast, but quickly replaced it with his mouth. He licked my poor, sore nipple a couple of times, then bit down hard. The room seemed to swim around me.

"Tonight, Robin, you're going to find out what it's like to be a woman. To pleasure your man when you feel like it ..." His face darkened. "... And when you don't."

"I ... I do feel like it," I said to the fat, ugly old man.

Reaching into the plastic bag on the table, he took out a new tube of lubricant ... and a moderately sized flesh-colored plastic dildo. He squeezed out some lubricant onto the dildo, then put some on his middle finger and applied it to my anal opening, He forced his finger into me up to the first knuckle. I hardly felt it, because he had resumed ravaging my nipple with his teeth. I was laying back on the bed, my slender arms impotently back on either side of my head, my head rocking from side to side, my long, beautiful hair being tossed this way and that.

He finally took his teeth off my breast and kissed my lips. I was so grateful to have him off my nipple that I almost didn't notice as he picked up the dildo and slowly inserted the tip into my rectum.

"You wanted a dildo," he said with a sneer. "Now, you've got one."

He went back to kissing me -- his moustache now wet with sweat and his saliva. With his left hand, he attacked my sore right nipple. With his right, he eased the dildo all the way up into me. It didn't hurt too much. I felt so full and sore and turned on all at the same time. Speaking of turned on, he turned a switch on the dildo, and it started to vibrate. He pumped it into me again and again as I writhed on the bed. With his left hand, he found the slit in my harem pants and inspected my very-hard 6-inch penis.